Miriam's Quilt (20 page)

Reuben’s head snapped up and his gaze seared a hole through Seth’s chest. Seth hadn’t meant to hurt Reuben with such talk, but Reuben might as well face the truth. How many times had he begged Reuben to look past his own pride and see his wife more clearly?

Jonas kept sobbing, as if crying would wash away the burden of guilt. “Scott said that if we scared you, you would leave my mamm alone. I never wanted to break your arm or give you those bruises. We—” He glanced at Miriam. “We got carried away, especially Scott. It all happened so fast, as if I was watching it instead of doing it.”

“I care nothing about what you did. It is forgotten between us.” Seth pulled away and pinned Jonas with an intense gaze. “Do you understand? It is forgotten.”

Jonas merely nodded. He could not answer with the sobs racking his body.

“I only care that your mamm receives the help she needs so she can get better.”

“The doctor has put her in a special place in the hospital,” Reuben said. “He wants her to be there for at least three weeks.”

“Yes,” Seth said. “That is what she needs. Hurting herself was another cry for help.”

Reuben rubbed that spot just above his eyebrow again. “Jah. I wouldn’t listen to the others.”

Seth released his hold on Jonas and approached Reuben. “But now you understand?”

“I do.”

“Then that is all that matters.”

Reuben nodded, deep in thought. “But where do I go from here?”

“Talk to the doctor first. He will know how to manage the medicine and therapy. When she comes home, she needs to know that you love her and you don’t think she is wicked. Try to understand what she is feeling. Right now, she thinks you don’t care—that you only see her as the woman who cleans your house and takes care of your children.”

“That is not true.”

“But that is how you behave.” Seth might as well be blunt. Beating around the bush wouldn’t do for a man like Reuben Shetler.

An argument flashed in Reuben’s eyes before he slumped his shoulders and looked away.

“When Mary gets home, I want you to allow her to come to our group therapy sessions every Tuesday night,” Seth said.

“I will come with her.”

“Nae. Mary will not speak freely if you are there, and she needs the therapy more than you do.”

“My wife should be able to tell me everything.”

Seth nodded. “Jah, she should. But you must earn her trust.”

Reuben turned his back on Seth and rested his hand against the post. He had been confronted with enough hard truth for one day. Seth would say no more.

The longer he stood there, the more effort it took for Reuben to speak, like a man who hadn’t slept well for several days. “When Jonas is not at the mill, he will be here to help until your arm is well. To make up for what he has done.”

Seth pursed his lips. “Now that Mary is in the hospital, I think Jonas had best help at home.”

“All the same, he will be here. He must make amends where he can. I and my other children will handle the load at home.”

Reuben patted Jonas on the shoulder, and they trudged slowly from the stable. The squeaky door declared their departure.

Seth filled his lungs with air. He felt as if he’d held his breath the entire time the Shetlers were here. He turned to Miriam. Her presence surrounded him like a fragrant flower that made the world seem more beautiful. She looked at him with undisguised tenderness in her eyes. The expression made his heart leap in his chest and beat an unfamiliar and wild cadence.

“I could never have been so kind,” she said, leaving the stall to be close to him. He loved the way she smelled, even with manure all over her feet. “I’ve never known anyone to be so little concerned about himself. You are amazing.”

He shouldn’t let her praise go to his head. She made him feel as if he were floating three feet off the ground. “Nae, do not say such things. I was very concerned for myself on Wednesday while running away. I wish I did not harbor ill feelings toward anyone in the first place.”

“But that is why you are amazing. If you never got upset, you would never need to muster the strength to forgive. I admire your strength.”

“You would do the same thing.”

Miriam’s face clouded over. “I wouldn’t. I’ll never forgive Yost. You are stronger than I can ever be.”

“If you keep saying these things, I will start to believe them.”

She twitched her lips into a brief smile then grew unusually solemn. “I am sorry what he said about your mother.”

Seth looked at the ground. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t like talking about her, do you?”

Seth swallowed the lump in his throat. “No use dwelling on bad memories.”

“But there must be some gute memories too.”

Seth walked back to the squeaky door and picked up his can of lubricant. “Gute memories won’t bring her back.”

* * * * *

With the chores done, Miriam went to her room to avoid Yost. She had finished sewing Seth’s quilt top together last week. Even on her new, slick treadle sewing machine, piecing together the blocks had been several hours’ work. She always took great care on her quilts. Now the frames straddled her bed with the half-stitched quilt stretched like a tent across them. Mamm and Susie had both helped with the quilting.

With Seth’s quilt, she felt she sewed memories of his mother right into the patterns. When he looked at the Log Cabin square, would he remember reading books with her? Or would the basket pattern bring to mind how much she liked flowers?

After threading the needle, she dove in to her work. Miriam hoped to finish the quilt by next week so Seth could use it on his cot when the weather turned cold.

It surprised her how anxious she was for him to like it. She wanted to bring him as much happiness as he had given her. She caught sight of Priscilla’s doll propped against her pillow. Just as the doll reminded Miriam that people cared about her, Seth would have something to comfort him when he thought of his mamm.

“Gute memories won’t bring her back.”

But just like the quilt, gute memories could warm him on a cold winter’s night.

“Don’t walk into a tornado out there,” Martha said as Miriam opened the door.

A stiff wind nudged her backward as she left the shop. With it being mid-September, the crowds at the quilt shop had thinned. As the days grew shorter, she would be working fewer hours until the Christmas rush.

If she had still been promised to Ephraim—she held her breath as sadness passed through her like the wind at the thought—she would have been quite anxious about her loss of income. Ephraim had always been insistent that they have plenty saved before the wedding. But this year, Miriam didn’t mind that things in the shop slowed. Less work at the shop meant more time to make quilts—time to finish Seth’s and start one for Susie.

She arched her back and sighed. This afternoon she’d sat down to sponge a smudge off one of the quilts and had almost fallen asleep. In addition to chores at home, she now spent late hours at the stable every day. She’d caught Seth staring at her with concern yesterday. She must have looked exhausted. He’d begged her to go home and get some rest. She, of course, had refused. She loved to see the look of exasperation on Seth’s face when she was contrary. He would throw up his hand and twist his lips into a grin of surrender.

Ephraim, on the other hand, always thought he knew best and would frown and pout and quote Scripture until he won Miriam over to his way of thinking. Miriam smiled to herself. Ephraim was so adorable when he pouted, sticking out his bottom lip ever so slightly and folding his arms across his chest.

Every day felt like a frolic at Seth’s stable. His little brothers were there after school unless Ellie insisted they stay home and do chores. Jonas also came daily. Dat had helped three days last week, and Hollow had been there every night too, sometimes with Susie in tow. In Susie’s condition, Hollow insisted that she relax while he worked like a beaver. His was the most valuable help. He knew enough about horses that Seth trusted him to assist with the training.

Yost always had an excuse to stay away, for which Miriam rejoiced. Right or wrong, she couldn’t abide the sight of her brother.

She braced herself against the wind and made her way down the street to the small market where most of the Amish shopped. Except for the Sabbath, today was the first day since the attack that Miriam would not be going to the stable. Mamm had a sore throat, and Miriam had promised that she would pick up the groceries and make supper.

The wind slammed the glass door behind her as she scooted into the market. Menno Schrock, the cashier who stood behind the counter, snapped his head up at the noise.

“Sorry,” Miriam said. “The wind is stronger than I thought.”

Menno nodded. “I don’t wonder if I should use a squash as a doorstop, but it might be smashed to bits.”

The door slammed shut again as another customer entered the market. Menno took a paper and pen from beneath the counter, quickly scrawled a few words on it, and taped it to the door. It said, M
IND THE
W
IND AND
M
IND
Y
OUR
F
INGERS
.

“That should do the trick,” Menno said.

Miriam only had a few minutes to gather what she needed for chicken potpies. Susie would fetch her in the buggy at three o’clock, and she didn’t want to keep her waiting. Chicken, carrots, and shortening were the only things on her list. Mamm insisted on a well-stocked pantry, and they already had at home most of what she needed. Miriam put an extra can of shortening in her basket. They were completely out.

As she headed down the next aisle to the meats, she came face-to-face with Ephraim and his brother Freeman. All three stopped short as if frozen in place by a sudden Arctic gale. Unembarrassed, Freeman turned away and grabbed a package of sausage. Ephraim studied her intently for a few moments. She couldn’t read his expression, but whatever his emotion at seeing her, it was soon replaced with indifference. He gave her a casual wave of his hand, pivoted, and dragged Freeman with him to the opposite side of the market.

Miriam clutched her chest. She did not expect anything more from Ephraim—he had made his sentiments perfectly clear—but the rejection still left her panting for air. How could he go on living his life as if nothing were different? Had he not loved her as deeply as she longed for him?

She picked out a package of chicken without really seeing it. Ephraim saturated her thoughts. She wanted to stomp her feet in frustration. Why? Why did he still have such power over her?

Willing herself to breathe normally, Miriam pictured Seth in her mind with a wise expression on his face.

“You are pretty,” he would say. “You are the kindest person I know besides my mother, and everybody likes you,” he would say. Then he would twist his lips into that funny grin and add, “Well, most everybody likes you. And Ephraim Neuenschwander really isn’t that smart.”

She reined in her imagination. Seth would never say that about Ephraim. He never mentioned Ephraim’s name at all. If only her thoughts could be as disciplined as Seth’s tongue.

Keeping her head low, Miriam hurriedly stuffed a bag with carrots and made a beeline for the checkout counter.

“You making stew?” Menno said as he inspected each carrot to make sure there were no bad spots.

“Potpies.”

“Etta has a gute recipe for potpies. I’ll have her send it to you.”

Menno’s leisurely pace had never bothered Miriam before. He seemed to have a personal stake in every meal anyone made with his groceries. Today she eagerly waited for him to hurry it up before Ephraim came around some corner and she melted into a puddle of embarrassment.

“Etta makes piecrust with lard.” He checked the price a second time on the tub of shortening. “She claims it makes them extra flaky.”

Miriam nodded and handed him her money, hoping that if she didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t have anything to say in reply.

To her relief, he counted out her change without additional comment. She catapulted out the door with her groceries, cringing as the wind slammed it behind her.

Mind the wind and mind your fingers.

Susie sat in the buggy in the parking lot. Miriam hopped in. “I’m ready to go,” she said breathlessly.

A shadow lingered on Susie’s expression. “I saw Ephraim and Freeman.”

Miriam fiddled with her bonnet bow. “They did their best to stay away from me.”

“They pretended not to see me.” Susie stared at the market’s door as if they would appear any second.

Even after her unsettling encounter with the Neuenschwanders, Miriam found herself comforting her sister. “Don’t worry yourself about it. They mean us no ill will. They are uncomfortable and do not know what to say.”

Susie frowned. “Jah,
they
are uncomfortable. They suffer so much.”

Miriam had never heard such bitterness from Susie before. The harshness surprised her. Better to change the subject. She would rather not talk about Ephraim or his little brother anyway. “Did you have a gute time at work today?”

“Hollow bought a stool for me. I told him I didn’t mind standing, but he would not hear of it.”

Miriam glanced at Susie out of the corners of her eyes. She was beginning to show a small bump under her dress. Susie had always been pretty in a delicate sort of way. If not for the circumstances, Miriam would have told her that she was even more beautiful now, pregnant. Her skin radiated with a peaches-and-cream glow, and her lips and cheeks looked full and supple. But Miriam had rather not talk about the baby. With Susie already out of sorts, talk of adoption or labor like as not would make her sister despondent.

Hollow was a safe subject. Susie liked talking about Hollow. “Hollow has been so gute to Seth. I do not think he would have been able to manage as well as he has without Hollow’s help.”

“Oh, Hollow knows so much about horses and everything. I don’t think I’ve met anyone so clever. Yesterday he fixed the propane stove in the pretzel stand without even reading the instructions. Esther Rose says their dat doesn’t even check on the pretzel stand much anymore. Hollow has his complete trust.”

“He volunteered to help on Seth’s farm without so much as a second thought. I am very grateful.”

Susie’s mood brightened with every word about Hollow. “That’s the kind of man Hollow is. He has a gute heart.”

As soon as they arrived home, Miriam hurried to the kitchen to make her dough. While it cooled in the icebox, she put the chicken in the skillet with the vegetables and boiled them together. With the skill acquired through constant practice, she soon had two potpies baking in the cookstove with dough hearts dotting the top.

Since Mamm was feeling poorly, Miriam and Susie had received strict orders to stay as far away from her as possible. Especially Susie. No good for her to get sick while carrying a baby. Callie was the designated nurse who took Mamm drinks and food while holding a towel over his nose.

Yost and Dat came through the back door together at suppertime. Dat had an arm around Yost’s shoulders and was telling him a funny story. Yost could have added four inches to his height if he’d stood up straight. His eyes were dull and cast downward, and his face would have cracked into a hundred pieces if he had tried to smile.

Miriam turned her back on him and busied herself at the cookstove. She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of Yost standing over Seth with a raised fist and an ugly sneer to his lips.

Yost’s chair squealed as he pulled it away from the table. Ignoring him, Miriam brought the pies to the table along with fresh corn on the cob and a green Jell-O salad.

Callie dutifully loaded a plate for Mamm to take to her room.

“You are a gute boy, Callie,” Miriam said.

The rest of them—Miriam, Yost, Susie, Dat, Raymond, and Isaac— bowed their heads in silent prayer. When Miriam lifted her gaze, Yost was staring at her with unmistakable sorrow in his eyes. She quickly looked away and busied herself by serving up the potpies.

Dat glanced at Miriam and cleared his throat. “You would have been proud of Yost today, children. We were passing the Herschbergers’ when Mayne opened her screen door and the wind blew the thing clean off. Yost ran after it, and I helped him repair the hinges. He fixed them real gute. That door won’t be running off again without permission. Mayne thanked us three times.”

“My hat blew off on the way home from school,” Raymond said. “Even when I held tight to it.”

“Are you going to the stable tonight, Miriam?” Dat asked.

“Nae. Not tonight.”

Dat patted Yost on the shoulder. “Yost says he might come to Seth’s with me on Saturday. Some of us are thinking of replacing the rotted wood and painting the outside.”

Miriam gazed out the window. “I think there will be plenty of help. Yost need not be bothered.”

Yost laid down his fork and stared at Miriam.

“Last weekend there were some Englisch boys up by Cashton making trouble. They spray-painted Ike Weaver’s buggy and knocked over a couple of mailboxes. It wonders me if they ain’t the boys who attacked Seth.”

“Whoever it is, Seth isn’t saying a word,” Miriam said, making eye contact with Yost.

Realization flickered in Yost’s eyes, followed by a look of sheer panic.

At least now he couldn’t think he fooled everybody.

Yost shot from his chair, scraping it loudly against the floor once more. “I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you are,” Dat said. “Sit and eat.”

“I’m going to the barn.” Yost grabbed his hat from the hook and blew out the door as recklessly as the wind blew in.

Dat frowned and lifted his eyebrows in Miriam’s direction as if Yost’s outburst were her fault. She tried to ignore the nagging of her conscience and fell silent while she sullenly ate her supper.

Dat took a bite of food and stared at the door as if waiting for Yost to change his mind and come back. When Yost didn’t show up, Dat scooted his chair farther under the table and talked on and on about Yost and what a good worker he was and how he had helped in the garden yesterday and how Yost milked the cows better than he did.

Supper sat heavily in Miriam’s stomach while she and Susie did the dishes. Susie chattered on about pretzels and Hollow and baby quilts and didn’t notice Miriam’s reluctance to speak.

After cleaning the kitchen, Miriam ventured outside in the dimming light to take down the last batch of clothes that whipped around furiously on the line. While she folded clothes into her basket, she heard the screen door slam and saw the silhouette of a tall figure on the porch.

With his hands in his pockets, Dat ambled toward her with the casualness usually reserved for a Sunday afternoon stroll. She wasn’t fooled. His expression told her that he wanted a serious talk.

“Susie says you saw Ephraim today. Are you okay?”

“Nae,” Miriam replied flatly.

“I wish I could make the pain go away.”

“So do I.”

“Do you blame your brother?”

Miriam doubled her efforts with the laundry. “Ephraim rejected me of his own choice. I do not blame anyone.” Her stomach felt hollow. Did she truly believe that?

“Then why do you treat Yost the way you do?”

Her heart sank to her toes. She’d thought no one had noticed. “What do you mean?”

“When he walks into a room, you walk out.”

“I eat supper with the family every night.”

Dat furrowed his brow. “In complete silence.”

Miriam didn’t know what to say. There was no way to explain herself, no way to describe the sick, angry feeling she got whenever she looked at Yost.

“I will do better,” she said.

Dat nudged her arm and invited her to sit on the back steps. She followed.

“Are you mad at him?” Dat asked, pinning her gaze with his bright blue eyes.

His intensity surprised her. “I—I am not mad.” Dat kept staring, not letting her get away with anything. She turned her head to look at the remnants of the sunset. “I am ashamed.”

Dat opened his mouth to say something and promptly closed it. He shifted on the step and slowly stroked his beard. This deliberate thoughtfulness was one of Dat’s best qualities. He wasn’t one to speak without thinking or to upbraid Miriam rashly because of the way she felt.